


Computer

by carrionkid



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Spencer Reid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:55:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6380758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrionkid/pseuds/carrionkid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A companion/sequel to Broken Record.<br/>-</p><p> </p><p>  <span>Reid was always going to end up being a profiler, even before he knew what it meant. After he skipped a few grades and made it out of elementary school, it became clear what he needed to do. He was always on the outside of everyone’s jokes, he was always misunderstanding. The kids around him spoke blatantly about him, like he couldn’t understand them--</span></p><p> </p><p><em><span>             That kid’s like a </span></em><b><em>ROBOT</em></b> <em><span>or a </span></em><b><em>COMPUTER</em></b> <em><span>or </span></em><b><em>someTHING</em></b><em><span>…</span></em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <span>(Or like he wasn’t even human.) </span></p>
            </blockquote>





	Computer

Reid was always going to end up being a profiler, even before he knew what it meant. After he skipped a few grades and made it out of elementary school, it became clear what he needed to do. He was always on the outside of everyone’s jokes, he was always misunderstanding. The kids around him spoke blatantly about him, like he couldn’t understand them--

_That kid’s like a_ ** _ROBOT_** _or a_ ** _COMPUTER_** _or_ ** _someTHING_** _…_

 

(Or like he wasn’t even human.) 

 

So, Reid started observing; absorbing the way each person stood, how their faces moved, what they did with their hands, how they carried themselves. He stood in front of mirrors and practiced expressions. 

 

The corner of his lips turned up; a sign of happiness.

He ends up going for a pursed-lipped smile, it looks more natural than anything else. A toothy grin looks forced, synthetic, like something pretending to be human but not quite making the cut. He knows the term for this;  _ the uncanny valley _ , an unconscious reaction of disgust to something that looks so close to human, but not close enough.

 

The line of his brows furrowed; a sign of stress.

He chooses this over chewing on the collar of his shirt or his fingers, over rocking back and forth, over saying ‘I’m anxious’ in a monotone voice because he doesn’t know how to express the feeling. He takes to chewing gum when he needs to chew on something, even after being written up at least 10 times; his mother never says anything because she  _ understands. _

 

He speaks like he’s singing, his voice moving up and down a scale to mimic the voices of everyone around him. (He knows that he’s a mockingbird.) His voice moves up three notes when he ends a question. He verbalizes italics to signify the  _ emphasis  _ in a sentence. He drops the comfort monotone and instead takes on the weight of a whole scale.

 

Reid fills a notebook with every emotion that he can find information on. Plutchik says that there are eight basic emotions; Aristotle says there are fourteen. Reid ends up with over 300, each feeling branches off into more and more, they overlap and influence each other deeply. Each one has an entry; it’s like a dictionary, it’s like catharsis. 

 

**Surprise - a feeling that occurs in response to something unexpected.**

  * Raised eyebrows
  * Widened eyes
  * Open mouth
  * Sudden movement backwards



 

He memorizes each entry and puts them to practical use in conversation after conversation. His mind flips through the pages, he sorts them out--

_              Her body seems closed off, let's take out all the positive emotions. _

_              Her voice is quiet, let’s take out anger related emotions. _

_              Her lips are trembling, let’s focus on sad emotions. _

 

\-- and comes to the conclusion he needs. People still make comments.

_              He seems pretty slow… _

_                           Yeah, but he’s got like, the whole dictionary memorized. _

_              Just because he knows it, doesn’t mean he understands it. _

_                           That’s true.  _

 

**_[they both laugh, but Spencer can’t find a joke]_ **

 

People still make comments, but they always will. But he’s not as dehumanized anymore. He keeps his head down, keeps to the shadows, keeps to the library. Reid finds a metaphor that fits; he’s someone learning a second language, he will never be a native speaker, the words will always be thick on his tongue, he will always have to work twice as hard. 

 

Reid notices that he’s more perceptive when it comes to feeling. It isn’t a work of subconscious, he doesn’t have to train himself to pick out feelings and thoughts, each moment is an act of deliberation, each conversation is driven by the split second profile he’s gathered on the other participants.

 

He breezes through the F.B.I classes, he gets picked as the youngest agent in the B.A.U. He tucks the pieces of himself that he’s cut off into a neat compartment marked DO NOT TOUCH. It’s stacked on top of box after box of books, each one labeled with its title. Sometimes he still has to go and rifle through them to find words that he can’t produce on his own. There is a term for this-- (going nonverbal) --and the people on his team don’t find it that strange when he can only produce a quote for the situation. 

 

Everything carries on; Reid is a forger, he forges emotions, expressions, poses. He follows all the rules, plays all the parts. But there are some exceptions, he doesn’t shake hands, he always stands, arms crossed--

 

( _ Crossed arms denote defensive feelings, anger, disappointment, disgust.) _

 

\--but the pressure of his hands tucked under his biceps is too good to pass up. He blends in, he doesn’t stand out. Reid always can feel the parts of him missing; as he grows more comfortable he starts to dip into the box marked DO NOT TOUCH and pull out things. 

 

At first it’s small, twiddling pencils in his hand, spinning bent paper clips. 

 

Then it moves onto spinning in the office chairs. 

 

Then he starts  bo uNCE,  moving from the balls of his feet to the heels.

 

Then he starts to rock himself in the chairs at the round table.

 

Then he starts to rock even when it doesn’t seem appropriate.

 

No one asks questions; no one presses it. People still make comments--

 

_              How does someone  _ **_like him_ ** _ get into the F.B.I? _

 

\--like they always will. However, this time--

 

_              You know we’re here to  _ **_HELP_ ** _ you? The least you could do is not insult the people here to help you. _

 

\--he has people who stand up for him. He has people who understand. Who carry extra sunglasses for when it’s too bright to avoid overload. Who guide him to the interrogation room when he needs to get away from the noise. Who don’t force hugs or handshakes; who expect a negative reaction to touch.

 

Reid doesn’t feel the need to tell them anything, they already know enough and no one has asked WHY, just HOW. HOW as in:

 

How can I help? 

How can I make it hurt less?

How can I make it better?

 

And that’s enough.


End file.
